


a gentle art

by andorgyny



Category: Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-21
Updated: 2014-04-21
Packaged: 2018-01-20 07:55:54
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 989
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1502708
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/andorgyny/pseuds/andorgyny
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Doctor takes Rose to EPCOT.</p>
            </blockquote>





	a gentle art

He takes her to Disney World for the week. It’s just the latest in a long line of his unspoken apology trips wherein nothing goes wrong and everything is a bit too saccharine for her taste. She breathes in the trademark Disney air. Exhales.

They are at EPCOT when his craving for a frozen chocolate-covered banana reaches a critical level. She’s never been to Disney, so she’s never had a Disney frozen chocolate-covered banana before. She mentions this, and he’s off like a rocket to harangue the woman behind the little metal ice cream cart.

Rose smiles when he waves at her from the cart; when he turns around, her smile fades to nothing. A little girl squeals with delight and spins around in her gold Belle dress. Her father whisks her off of the ground and into his arms, and she’s no more than four or five but she squirms against him like she’s already had enough coddling, and Rose knows the feeling.

He’s been too kind, too accommodating, too… cautious after months and months (or is it years?) of carelessness. Of adventure in the blood instead of worry.

"Right. I’ve got you one without peanuts because I know you don’t like ‘em," he says, bright like he always is but something wrong, something missing, as he hands her a banana that has been impaled by a wooden stick.

"Ta."

It’s quite good–not sickly sweet or anything like that, just a frozen banana that sort of makes her teeth hurt. The discomfort eases her nerves.

He pulls out a paper map from his pocket and unfolds it. The wind catches the side and he fusses with it for a moment before frowned at the sky. “Looks like rain,” he muses, before returning to the map. “Good. Yes. France. You’ve been to 18th century and 21st century Paris… so how about a little Disney France? They have street performers! And champagne. From Champagne, France. You know, most of the stuff people call champagne isn’t actually champagne because it’s not from Champagne. It’s just bubbly wine. Which is all well and good, but every now and then it’s fun to pop open a bottle of the fancy stuff, the real thing. And you’re not listening to a thing I’m saying, are you?”

She rolls her eyes. “You know when you say a word over and over again, so it loses its meaning?”

"Ah."

"Yeah." Rose takes a bite out of her banana. "Listen, I sorta just wanna explore by myself for a little while." She almost takes it back when she sees the hurt look on his face, but then it’s too late–he’s gone and slid his mask back on, and he nods enthusiastically.

"Sure! Why not? I’ll just go and–yes. Here, you take the map and we’ll meet right… here. Inside Mexico’s pavilion, in… let’s say, two hours. We can have an early dinner under the stars. Oh, just you wait, Rose Tyler."

He pulls her in for a hug. His arms wrap around her tightly, and she feels him squeeze her even tighter for a second before he lets her go, something seizing in her heart as she walks away from him. He just stands there, she can tell, before turning around and heading back toward England.

Rose throws away the banana. She’s not too keen on them anymore.

 

 

She leaves France behind almost immediately. She’s got no interest in perfumes or treats, and the thought of champagne makes her sick to her stomach.

Instead, she explores Morocco. She thinks that if–when–he leaves her for good, she’d like to go there, to the real thing. She meets a boy there who is beautiful and strong, who smiles at her like he wants to get to know her better.

He’s from Marrakesh, and he speaks of it fondly. Still, he likes Americans (and English girls, he jokes) and their silly way of doing things, like building massive amusement parks just to explore other countries without leaving home.

She talks to him for ages, and then she hears the pitter-patter of rain on the roof. “What time is it? I forgot my watch,” she says.

"It’s just after three," he replies. She kisses him on the cheek and runs from the store, because she’ll always come when he's waiting for her, no matter what happens between them.

She’s soaking wet and she feels like laughing for the first time in weeks. Mickey’s gone forever, the Doctor is trying to keep her from losing her mind with the grief that consumes her, but she’s running through Japan and America and Italy and Germany and China and Norway and–

–she rushes into his waiting arms, and she presses her lips against his, running wandering hands through his drenched hair, and he wraps his arms around her waist, pulling her closer, and this is tongues and breaths and a thousand moments just waiting to happen and a million moments that have already happened, and she’s laughing against his lips, and he’s smiling so brightly she starts to cry.

"What was that for?" he asks, brushing tears away from her cheeks.

She grins up at him. A real grin, a beaming thing that doesn’t die when his eyes look to the pavilion in front of them. “It’s raining!”

"I know!" He frowns. "I wanted it to be perfect."

She takes his hand in hers. “But I’ve never wanted perfect, Doctor. I’ve only ever wanted this. Just you and me, and a little running for our lives. And it’s taken me all this time to realize it but it’s true–I want to spend every day I have left with you. Even if it rains sometimes. No, especially if it rains sometimes.”

He smiles, and pulls her up the stairs and into the darkened pavilion.

They share burritos and margaritas and just bask in the gentle art of being together.  


* * *


End file.
